


The Story Of Shakespeare

by Kanra_chan



Series: Caught In The middle [4]
Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Angst, M/M, Pain, back story, fluff too, some mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2017-09-19
Packaged: 2018-12-31 11:05:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12131094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kanra_chan/pseuds/Kanra_chan
Summary: The story of Shakespeare, an original from Nooses Around Necks and Bones Made Of Brick. Just a look into his life and who he is :)I know original character stories are pukey usually and I don't expect many of y'all to read because I wouldn't but for those who are interested in the character, here ya gol <3





	The Story Of Shakespeare

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Edainwen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edainwen/gifts).



> Aahhh YESSSSSS its for you Edainwen! Since you seem to be interested in Shakespeare here's a little insight into his character~ 
> 
> I hope you all read and enjoy! I know original characters are annoying but ik wanted to test him out...I created him just for this story, after all.

“Disgusting.” Those were the first words he remembers his mother speaking. It isn’t to his face, he wasn’t even supposed to hear it, but a child is nothing if not curious. “That child is disgusting and I just can't put up with him!" 

She’s on the phone, venting off to some person. He finds it odd, really, how she can speak about him so easily to other but not to his face. In private spaces he sneaks his way in to spy on, she’ll often go on and on to someone or to herself about her child's flaws. To his face, however, she is passive and mild.

His mother never hits him. His mother never bullies him. His mother never hugs him.

From a young age he’s learned he is unliked, and this is shown in many ways. From his mother's passive eyes, the absence of his father, and the taunts of other children. He is hated in many ways, and by many people.

It’s surprising how he doesn’t come to hate himself. But really, how can he hate someone he doesn’t know? His thoughts are quiet, his opinions none, and his body another person. He has the feeling of watching a very dark movie, with the main character being himself but not feeling any connection because he’s on a couch somewhere and not the tormented child he sees. When he’s punched, though, he feels it.

“Speak, piggy!” Laughter, as this is the funniest joke someone the age of 8 could come up with, apparently. He’d like to tell them that he has no need to speak when they themselves have never said anything worthwhile either.

“I-I-I...H-have…” It doesn’t seem to make it out, though.

“No! Piggies squeal!” He’s kicked in his rounded belly rather hard, and it does produce a sound. The other children seem to accept this, and the teacher is calling for the end of playtime. They shuffle away, and he picks himself up. He wonders if his mother will be angry or pleased by the shoeprints on his clothes.

He decided she’ll be angry about the clothes but pleased by the bruises underneath. He doesn’t think on it long, sitting at his desk and waiting for the day to end so he can go home and go to sleep. He never dreams of anything, and he thinks this is how it should be. Permanently.

Until, and how cliche this is isn’t lost on him, he meets a girl. A little girl, with spiky messy black hair and eyes the color of dried blood. He should know, it stains his clothes often enough. She isn’t nice to him, but it’s different.  
She isn’t nice to anyone. She ignores everyone, except the teacher, and states her opinion firmly. He finds himself listening and taking notes.

She hates dresses and skirts because her uniform has a skirt and she’s forced to wear it.

She hates english, because he doesn’t see the need to learn another language when she wants to remain in Japan forever.

She hates fish, because of the way the eyes look.

She hates the other children, because they never think.

He thinks. He thinks a lot, and knows a lot too. And he really wants to convey this, wants to tell her that she isn’t alone. He just can’t.

So he thinks some more, and decides he shouldn’t tell her this anyway. It’s selfish, because he is the one that feels alone, and he is the one that wants a friend. She doesn’t, so he watches her, with those calculating red eyes and cocky attitude. She’s strong, she is unflinching, and he decides he wants to be like her. In the end he was wrong though, because one day she sits with him.

“You’re a pretty quiet guy.” Is what she says. “I like that, even if it comes from a bad place.” He doesn’t know how she knows that, but red eyes tell him not to worry about it. 

“T-t-….T-th-thank y-you.” Is his quiet reply. She looks surprised, then annoyed, and then another emotion he can’t place.

“Whatever.” Her smile is like a smirk, eyes dancing with mischief like none he’s seen before.

So they become friends. Somewhat. They eat together, play board games like chess and checkers together, and he silently explores her character while his own slowly comes forth. She likes to play tricks on the teacher, and break the rules when she knows she won’t be caught, and steal things from his bullies. And in doing so, shows him a person so different from the mess of stupidity and insecurity the other kids wallow in that he falls in love before he’s ever heard the word.

He decides he doesn’t want to be like the other children. He wants to be like the girl of complexities who befriended him out of her own loneliness that was never seen by another but herself. And he learns new things about the both of them.

She is lonely.

He is lonely.

She hates people.

He hates what people have done.

She is strong.

He is weak.

And he accepts things like this as facts that were not apparent to him before. Funny thing about life, though, the things you think you understand about yourself and others always change. Because the girl with red eyes and spiky messy black hair is strong, but not invincible. The other kids get mad at her, too, at how she is friends with the boy who is their punching bag. They target her, too, and he does nothing. He stands back and watches, hates what’s happening but can’t stop it either.

Because he’s a person who can think and feel on levels far beyond others, but cannot carry this out into action. She doesn’t abandon him for not helping her, just picks herself up and beats him again at chess. Eventually it goes too far, children slipping peanuts into her sandwich when they found out she’s allergic. He wasn’t even there that day, home with a virus, and therefore not there when she starts to choke. No one sees, as they have their own hiding spot for lunch and the body is finally found once the smell reaches days later.

It’s a news report that tells him what happened. Not his mother, not his teacher, not even the other kids who had been informed… it’s the little TV he has in his room, that tells him his only friend is gone.

He cries, of course. It’s not like he hasn’t before, sniffling over cuts in an empty schoolyard or in bed at night after words tossed at him, but this is different. He wails, he screams, and it goes on for hours until his mother eventually comes in.  
She doesn’t say anything, just gathers him in the first and last hug he remembers getting from her and lets him be sad. He comes to the conclusion that she doesn’t hate him, but she doesn’t love him, either. She is just comforting someone because there is no one else around and she understands despair.

He falls asleep in her arms, eventually, and she’s gone back to her own room when he eventually awakens. He feels like it is he who died. Life doesn’t hold anything at all, not that it did before, but this is different. He is broken. This idea repeats itself daily, between the moments of what feels like clarity and the moments of utter despair. He stops going to school. His mother sets up a homeschooling program for him, and he shuts himself away.

It helps, eventually. Not his social problems of course, only therapy could help with that, but it pushes and eases those away and gives him escape. He does his schoolwork, never one to break the rules or ignore orders, and grows quietly. And as he grows he changes mentally and physically. He decides he doesn’t hate those who bullied him. He was different, and scary, and weird. Of course the children wouldn’t like him if they couldn’t understand him. No one did, and they never would.

He becomes bigger. He was always chubby, eating a lot when he was young to fill the void he didn’t realize was there, but this is different. He gets stronger, for no reason. It’s not like he works out, he just stays in his room and does his schoolwork.  
But he’s getting older, finishing highschool now and needing something else to do. There’s a family member he’s seen only twice. A gruff woman, mean if you talked to her but with husband who was gentle and kind.  
She runs a business, and her husband gets him a job. He moves big heavy boxes out in the sun from trucks into buildings that feel like nothing in his arms and becomes even stronger. He’s big and meaty and tanned now, instead of the pale little chubby boy he once was.

He doesn't really care. It means nothing to him. It’s not like he’s handsome, just different now. His face is still flat with a big nose and dead brown eyes. He keeps his hair very short and doesn’t invest any time into fashion.  
Sometimes pretty girls come, girlfriends to the other worker and they smile at him. The other crewmembers, all men, say he’s a nice guy. He wonders if it’s true. He never speaks to any of them, but in a group of men he supposes that isn’t odd, and so he’ll get a few smiles from pretty women who blindly agree to the notion of his supposed niceness.

Times like these prompt him to think about love and friendship. He always thinks of the little girl from all those years ago, red eyes still sharp in his memory even if her name isn’t anymore. He wonders what she would have wanted for him, before deciding she wouldn’t have cared.

It’s freeing, really. He once again just moves on with his life and waits for something to happen. And around the age of Thirty, it does. He meets a group of kids in red that change his life. It’s starts with a boy who calls himself Alpha. With dark skin and a bright laugh he approaches him after work one day.

“Hey man!” He greets, waving a hand and smiling. “How ya doin’?” He can’t respond. He simply nods, waves a hand back. The kid looks a little confused at the lack of real responds but nods back.

“So, I’ll introduce myself. My name is Alpha.” He thinks that’s a strange name, but doesn’t comment. “A good friend of mine who works here was tellin’ me about ya! And we think you’d be perfect!”

“...P-p-...” He hisses under his breath, having been so long since he talked to anyone that he can hardly open his mouth. If only Alpha were telepathic. “P-p-perf-f-fect f-for...?” It’s all he can really get out, but the kid doesn’t seem to mind.

“Our gang!” He announces, smiling. Gangs were, of course, huge in such a large city. With strong gangs like The Blue Squares and Yellow Scarves shaping the path for other gangs. Of course the game changed when The Dollars arrived, a colorless gang with an unknown leader. He’d never put much thought into it, though.

“O-o...o-o-okay.” Alpha looks really surprised, gold eyes going wide.

“What, really? Just like that?” He asks, and he nods. He doesn’t refuse people, he doesn’t say no, and he doesn’t have any opinions. Not since red eyes could no longer look at him. So he’ll do what this kid asks, follow blindly, until his end.

At least, he thinks it will be this way. But the day Alpha hands him a thin, red rope and tells him to be wear it around his neck and not to sleep with it on, everything changes. He’s introduced to three other boys and for reasons he doesn’t understand, they like him.

There’s a boy with blue hair and black eyes, like a demon, and sharp pointed teeth who likes to bite him. He doesn’t mind it, but Alpha always get onto him. The boy calls himself Shark, and follows him around.

Then there’s Hero and Zero, twins. Hero is a bright boy who loves to chatter on about things, anything he can really, and he likes it. He has a very slight accent though, and informed him once that he was from Mexico. He dyes his hair a orangy blonde color to match his unusually light eyes.

Zero, however, is his brother polar opposite where personalities are concerned. Zero is quiet, like him, but that’s mainly because he never bothered to learn japanese. His black hair hangs to cover his light orange eyes, exactly like those of his brother,and he never smiles. That’s okay, though. He’ll sit and watch TV with him sometimes, with spanish subtitles on, and it’s nice.

One night, they give him a name. Not that he didn’t already have one, but he’s heard it used so little in his life and nearlyonly by his mother that he doesn’t think of himself by his name. He is simply himself, until they name him. He’s reading alone, off in the living room of the multi bedroom house they share. They have a lot of money, all of which that comes from some very illegal stuff Shark does to fund their gang. He more than funds it, they have anything they could ever want.

Of course they all help out. Zero cooks the meals, usually wonderful spicy mexican foods that he likes. Hero does the laundry and the dishes, always humming at the sink or singing when he hangs the clothes. Alpha helps Shark and does the grocery shopping.

He cleans the house. It isn’t much hassle, just sweeping and tidying up where it’s needed, as everyone but Zero keeps their rooms clean. And when that’s done he reads, typically. There’s a library nearby, and Hero helped him get a library card.

“Whatcha readin’? Alpha asks, plopping down on the couch next to him. Zero is making dinner nearby, quietly chopping vegetables while everyone else is watching tv.

“Shakespeare.” He replies, and all heads snap to him.

“You didn’t stutter!” Shark gasps, shoving himself in his space. If he could see the whites of his eyes, he’d bet his eyes were wide with surprise.

“Cómo?” Zero asks quietly and Hero nods too.

“Yeah, how did you do that?”  
He shrugs, not saying anything else. He enjoys reading the works of Shakespeare, and since the library is constantly changing things around to keep it fresh and new he has to ask where they’ve moved his works. Maybe he’s said it so much it’s no longer hard.

“Say something else!” Hero demands, bouncing in his seat. “Say, ‘Apple!’”

“A-a-ap-apple…”

“Try ‘Shark!’” Sharks demands.

“Sss-ssh-shark-k…”

“Tetas…” Zero says.

“W-wh-what…”

“Say ‘Shakespeare’ again.” Alpha says, and he repeats it without stuttering. “Well then that’s it! You can say that word but nothing else, huh? Then… how about we make that your name?” He asks, smiling. After a moment he nods, looking down at the book containing the play of Romeo and Juliet. He finds it fitting, and a very odd way.

From then on, he’s called Shakespeare and he likes it. He gets closer to the group. WHen they make their public appearance, however, makes him sad. The kill a man.  
He angers Alpha, one day, when he won’t let the group in his store. He claims to hate hoodlums and disturbance. The man even has a sign on his door banning gangs and bartenders. It upsets Alpha greatly. He’s a nice, charming boy until you get on his bad side.

Alpha had led the man to their house and brought him to the basement. He holds the man down while Hero and Zero shave his head and pull his teeth out, then burn his fingertips. Shark injects him with something, clear and syrupy looking, and the man stops screaming and spitting blood. He wipes up the blood, and the others take his hair, teeth, and clothes off somewhere. And then they take the body outside, to the trunk of their special emergency car that only Alpha and Shark are allowed to drive.

When they come back, he settles down and smiles at Shark. Hero and Zero seem to be fine, and Shakespeare is the only one who is upset by this. Alpha just pats him on the back and tells him people like the man needed to be gone.  
They kill more, up to six bodies. There’s a seventh, he knows they eliminated someone without his knowing, but they don’t tell him who. He suspects it’s a child. Alpha, apparently, doesn’t like his worrying and tells him he’ll be tagging along next time. He nods his head and goes back to his book.

The next time, he finds out what they do after he’s out of the scene. They dump the bodies in alleyways and melt the victims faces, making them completely unrecognizable. It’s taking longer than usual, the heavy rain washing it away too fast for it to properly work so Shark has gone out to get some of his own, stronger version. He also happened to forget the bleach, which they always dump over the body as an extra precaution.

“Yo!”  
There’s a noise, near the mouth of the alley, but he ignores it in favor of staring at their most recent victim. She had been a beautiful blonde woman, and he doesn’t know why they killed her. He didn’t ask.

“Oh, you sure gave up quick.” Alpha says, and he can see his leader dragging someone forward into the alley out of the corner of his eye.

He ignores them, mostly, staring at the naked and flawless body before him. Whatever she did, this was a bit much, right? But when Alpha gets mad at someone who isn’t in the group, he gets revenge. There’s another man now, not a teenager like everyone in his group, but someone who looks to be in his twenties. His eyes dart around, calculating and sharp.  
His eyes are red. Red like dried blood with spiky messy hair and a smile more like a smirk. He’s talking with Alpha and Shark, who’s just arrived back on the scene.

“-dude, that’s Izaya Orihara! He’s famous. Famously hated, even. We can just give him some bleach and let the police speculate on who did it.” Shark says, and Shakespeare wonders a little closer while they keep talking.

He’ll admit it feels wrong to look at the way Alpha is draped over him. One hand is gripping his, Izaya’s, wrist too tightly and gripping his jaw with the other. To his credit, Izaya isn’t showing signs of fear or panic, staying calm as he can. It makes him think of the girl, with the same eyes and hair as Izaya.

Now he remembers, memories flooding back suddenly, that her name was Izumii. And Izaya is the spitting image of her, mischievousness and all. It’s like she’s been reincarnated, and they’re finally meeting again.  
Which would be kind of hard to do since they’re about to pour bleach down his throat. Shark has the bottle out, and Shakespeare is wondering if maybe, just this once, they’d let him go when he catches the man’s words to Shark.

“I assumed from the name "Alpha" that he was your leader, my apologies.” He purrs, and he tenses. Alpha gets mad at this, heating up faster than a kettle over a fire.

“What the fuck did you say?” Alpha hisses, letting go of his jaw to shove his fingers into the man’s mouth, He yanks, forcing his mouth open wide. “Do it!” He snaps at Shark.

But Izaya clearly doesn’t want to die, and moves himself. He produces a knife, from where Shakespeare doesn’t know, andthe hand holding his other wrist. At the same time he bites down, spilling more blood to be washed away in the rain.

Alpha shoves him, and he moves forward to catch the man. A stern look from Alpha and he’s moving, guiltily holding the wrist with the knife and slides his fingers into his mouth. It’s a warm shock to his cold fingers one that makes him shudder. Izaya tries to bite him, but he gently moves his large fingers to his back teeth which keeps his jaw and mouth open. He’s not sure if Izaya is aware of the small, scared noise he makes. He doesn’t seem the type to show fear.

“S-Shh…” He nuzzles Izaya’s cheek, since he can’t pet him. All he can think of is Izumii, dying alone in their little lunch spot and being left there for days. “ O-o-over s-soon . P-p-pr… pr- ….o-ok-okay.” He wishes he could say what he wants. He just wishes he could say ‘You’re going to be okay, I promise. I’ll meet you in heaven soon, my love.’ but can’t. All he can do is hold him a little tighter and hope he understands.

“Don’t comfort him, Shakespeare.” Alpha snaps, glaring at Izaya. “He fucking bit me.”

“S-s-small. S-sc-sca… a-afri..ad.” He tries to explain, but flinches at the look he gets. Quieter, so Alpha cant hear, he whispers into Izaya’s ear, "S-s-sorry... P-pr-pretty." Izaya shivers, He moves his thumb, resting against his jaw, up to stroke his cheek in hopes that it will calm him down. Pretty doesn’t cover it. Izumii was radiant, brilliant, beautiful in every sense of the word and in every way you could want. But he can’t say all that, so something as small and simple as “pretty” will have to do.

The man tries to turn and look at him, but Shakespeare knows if he looks into those eyes he won’t be able to do it. So he guides his head forward and keeps his blurry vision on the cup of bleach being pressed to his dead love’s lips, ignoring the desperate way he’s trying to bite him.

“Just what the fuck do you assholes think you’re fucking doing?!” Someone screams, and Shark is colliding with the wall. Shakespeare watches in awe as a man in bartender getup turns to him. He’s got blonde hair, fiery amber eyes, and a snarl to rival Alpha’s own.

What really strikes him, though, is the way he looks at Izaya. It’s electric, the way his focus draws completely to him. And Izaya does the same, shoulders tensing and breath hitching relief. The blonde snaps forward, snatching Izaya out of his hold and slamming a fist into Shakespear's stomach.  
It hurts and he doubles over, the sheer force of it nearly knocking him off his feet. Izaya is slammed into the wall behind the blonde man, and he can see rage burning. This man is angry that they were going to hurt Izaya. This man is going to protect him.

He moves away from Izaya and Alpha calls for the other boys. They all freeze when police sirens wail into the rain, though. While the other boys are hurrying to grab the acid and bleach and spray pain the symbol on the body, he grabs Izaya and shoves him at the bartender.

"G-g-get p-p-pre-etty a-aaaaway...!" He hisses, and pushes them both towards another alley. It's hidden by trash piled on trash and rotting cardboard, and he shoves them past it. The blonde grabs his hand, and they run. Izumii glances back at him once, but they don't stop and they're soon out of sight.

For once in his life, Shakespeare has done something he wants. He's saved someone, the ghost of Izumii, and it feels good. He just hopes Alpha never finds out.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading <3 Let me know what you think!


End file.
